Faded Existence
by SeveredMind
Summary: It has been two years since anyone has last seen Harry and so was left for dead. Alone, Severus agonizes over the loss of his beloved, but upon being reunited with his lost love…only pain can be found added to his torture.
1. To Be Forgotten

Title: Faded Existence  
  
Author: SeveredMind (ThadenCrow@aol.com)  
  
Pairing: SS/HP LV/HP  
  
Rating: R  
  
Summary: It has been two years since anyone has last seen Harry and so was left for dead. Alone, Severus agonizes over the loss of his beloved, but upon being reunited with his lost love...only pain can be found added to his torture. Seventh year is to begin, what surprises are to be expected for those who abandoned the Boy Who Lived are now beginning to unravel.  
  
Author's Note: Altered some bits. Hope you like. Please read and review; all feedback welcomed.  
  
TO BE FORGOTTEN  
  
Two years. It had been two years since Harry Potter was first discovered missing from his home at Privet Drive. The house was found demolished with only smoldering piles of debris left littering the area. The Dursleys, surprisingly, had been spared if not roughened a bit from the ordeal. But the fact still remained that the Boy Who Lived was gone, taken long before he could even start his sixth year at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  
  
Distraught consumed the entire wizarding world as news of their expected savior being abducted spread. For months, Aurors were sent searching for the missing boy, only to turn up empty-handed. The mounting efforts were proving more useless than the last. It was only after the first year that the searches started to become more infrequent before finally stopping. He was suspected and left for dead by this point.  
  
Everyone it seemed was keen on quickly accepting the loss of Harry Potter. The thought of the boy enduring months of torture and still living was near unbearable. Death and peace thereafter was a far better fate to believe in for the young wizard. Even if it was denial, ignoring the reality of painful possibilities was far simpler, easier and more convenient for their own sakes. After all, a war was still brewing, isn't that enough to justify their actions?  
  
However, there was one who lingered on the slightest hope that Harry may still be alive. Severus Snape, secret lovers with Harry Potter, spent nights praying that the young man, who managed to creep into his heart, would someday return. To give himself another chance to hold him, to cherish his young lover as the Gryffindor ought to have been without his holding back (having feared he would get hurt in the end)...to finally confess his love. Throughout their time together, he had yet to say "I love you" to his beloved.  
  
But now it was growing more unlikely that he'd have the chance. Guilt and sorrow ate away at his heart with each passing day. Each morning spent waking to an empty bedside, the space cold and untouched where Harry should have been, but was not. It was an excruciating reminder of his utter loneliness.  
  
Severus was currently laying in said bed, his back turned, facing away from the hollowed vacancy at his side. The Potions Master's brooding was interrupted when a fiery pain shot through his left arm; he was being called. Reluctantly he rose, assembling the proper attire before heading for the designated apparating point off of Hogwarts' grounds. With a loud "pop" he arrived with the rest of the Death Eaters, assuming his role as the dutiful minion, but was in fact a spy for the Order.  
  
Briefly, he wondered whether they were summoned for yet another pointless task. It was peculiar how Voldemort chose not to use Harry's absence to his advantage and strike full force on the wizarding world. It was as though he were biding his time. Nothing was absolutely for certain, therefore nothing could have been reported back to the Order. It had been months of minor activity, as to why exactly was puzzling. Surely, if Voldemort had indeed captured Harry he would have eliminated the boy by now, after all it wasn't a secret as to how much the Dark Lord loathed the Boy Who Lived. Then, why?  
  
A billow of black robes whispered the arrival of the Dark Lord, his foreboding presence gliding towards the ornate throne, while crimson hues surveyed his subjects from pale, serpentine features. Massed Death Eaters lowered themselves in submissive gestures, bowing humbly to their Master, acknowledging the glory that was Lord Voldemort. Once seated, he placed his elbows atop the armrests, his fingers steepled in front of him as he spoke.  
  
"Rise," commanded the sibilant voice and such was obeyed. "The time has come that all shall be set into motion. I have been waiting for this moment to arrive and now that it has, I'll be able to commence what has been postponed due to certain inconveniences."  
  
Those bloody eyes narrowed viciously as he carefully scrutinized those shifting uncomfortably before him. Severus understood now; Voldemort knew there was a spy among his Death Eaters. Because of this, he had been purposely giving them pointless missions so as to sway their attention from his true intentions. Severus would have been irritated for his wasted time if not grateful the Dark Lord hadn't yet discovered the traitor was him.  
  
"Soon, the Ministry will fall and that fool, Dumbledore, will succumb under my rule. The side of light will crumble under our strength...isn't that right, my pet?"  
  
"Yes," was the soft reply.  
  
Every masked face turned to look behind them abruptly for the source of the voice. Severus almost choked upon hearing that oh so familiar voice; there was no doubt in his mind who the speaker was. There, making his way through the Death Eaters towards Voldemort, was Harry Potter. His Harry. Severus couldn't believe it, his heart was pounding frantically while eyes widened in a mix of shock and horror. This just couldn't be!  
  
The graceful steps and gentle sway of tempting hips was exactly how he had remembered, though flawless skin was even paler than he recalled, almost translucent but beautiful nonetheless. The lithe frame was clad in tailored, black dueling robes that clung lovingly around the lightly muscled form. Once wildly tousled hair was tamed and lengthened, reaching in a lavish waterfall of silken ebony to a slender waist, the strands tied neatly with a matching black, velvet ribbon. The awkward, but endearing, glasses were removed leaving that delicate face unadorned, though framed by rich, dark bangs.  
  
And those eyes. Vibrant emerald pools were filled with the same warmth, but an underlying barren coldness was apparent; the genuine tenderness gone under the submersion of emptiness, there lacked any sense of true recognition.  
  
Severus yearned to embrace his beloved and find out what was the matter, but refrained himself from doing so. The Potions Master's heart beat faster as his Harry was making his way closer to him. He was coming right towards him...  
  
And passed right by his lover without a second glance. Severus felt as though the entirety of his chest collapsed, his heart plummeting to the dark, abysmal depths at being shunned so coldly. Pained obsidian eyes, covered thankfully by the Death Eater mask, watched in a tormented daze as Harry strode onward to Lord Voldemort. The serpentine figure held his arms wide, seeming to beckon the boy and when he did draw near, wrapped his arms possessively about the slim waist.  
  
Cradling the boy on his lap, a malicious smile spread across ivory features while his precious bundle nestled closer. Harry was nuzzling the Dark Lord's cheek, thus drawing strong reactions from aghast and perturbed Death Eaters all around. A satisfied smirk replaced the smile before a hushed whisper was spoken, telling Harry to stop his ministrations for the time being, bringing a disappointed and reluctant mew from pouting lips. Voldemort chuckled lightly, then gave an affectionate kiss onto Harry's forehead in promise of later surprises for him in their chambers. Turning his attention back to the recovering Death Eaters, Voldemort continued his speech in a low hiss.  
  
"In a few days my pet will return to Hogwarts for he shall be the key in bringing me Dumbledore's downfall. Therefore, eliminating the major obstacle in my path. Severus, I would like for you to have the honor in informing the old fool when you return."  
  
The Potions Master was surprised by this. Swallowing the lump in his throat, he tentatively spoke in question, his voice somewhat strained although the cunning Slytherin hid it well.  
  
"My Lord? Would not catching the Headmaster unawares be more effective?"  
  
"Nonsense," again that eerie smile, not even fazed by his subject's questioning of his plans (which would usually anger him to no end), "I want Dumbledore to know. I want him to realize that even with all the power he wields, he is absolutely helpless in saving the Boy Who Lived because he belongs to me, now. Isn't that so, my pet? You're mine."  
  
"Hmmm," he purred, an angelic look of undying trust was shown as he gazed lovingly at Voldemort, "always."  
  
TBC... 


	2. Lost In Solitude

LOST IN SOLITUDE  
  
The doors to the Great Hall were forced open with a reverberating crash, the aged wood slamming against the hard, stone walls of the timeless castle, a few splinters raining down from the collision. In swept a flurry of black robes as the Potions Master practically charged through the hallway without the usual glide. His expression was fierce while he gazed about the startled faces, but not finding the one he currently sought.  
  
Many had taken refuge in the confines of Hogwarts, the majority being those who had a relationship with young Harry, the staff, as well others who worked for the Order of the Phoenix. They were currently gathered around one of the house tables to sup, though their leisure chatter was quieted when Severus came barging in, their surprise evident as they watched the flustered man. Sirius was the first to recollect himself as he stood up from his seat, a scowl marring his usually handsome face, his words harsh as he gruffly addressed the other.  
  
"What the hell is the matter with you?" he growled.  
  
Sirius never liked Severus to begin with, especially in their school days, and even more so since the time he found out the man was shagging his godson. He and only a small number knew of Severus and Harry's relationship, which included the Weasleys, Hermione, Remus, and Dumbledore. At the time he was told of this information, he had raged with plentiful bouts of fury, insisting that the "greasy bastard" had forced his godson. His hate for the Hogwarts professor only deepened when news of Harry's disappearance became known; Sirius relentlessly accused Severus of betraying Harry to Voldemort, that that was the only reason why he had even bothered to establish anything with Harry, so that he could gain his trust and then dispose of him quickly to the Heir of Slytherin.  
  
"Albus!" Ignoring the agitated man, Severus began to shout for the Headmaster in a frenzied manner with all sense of composure lost for the time being. "Albus! ALBUS!!"  
  
"Severus, please!" came the indignant remark from Madame Pomfrey, "Is there really a need for such a ruckus?"  
  
Before he could call out for the Headmaster once more, the man had already arrived. He regarded the Potions Master with a weary, but alert expression. His wizened, old figure was dressed in a flourish of purple robes, his hat somewhat askew from rushing down from his office. He was in his study and even from there he could hear the man's yelling.  
  
"What seems to be the matter, Severus?"  
  
"Yes, what seems to be the problem, Snivellus?" mocked Sirius, obviously not taking the man's urgency seriously. He had his arms crossed and was openly glaring daggers at the former Death Eater. Severus would have sneered back if there weren't more important matters to deal with than a juvenile grudge. Instead, he answered Dumbledore in a low, grave voice to ensure that the gravity and meaning of the situation was made absolutely clear.  
  
"He has him. The Dark Lord has Harry. He's had him all this time for the last two years; he's had him all along. None of the Death Eaters were told of this because he suspects a spy among his midst, but he wanted to make sure you know now. Especially now. He is going to send Harry back to Hogwarts—back here—to begin his seventh year."  
  
Stunned silence hung in the air in a suffocating way, thick and heavy, unwavering as everyone's eyes widened and mouths agape. Dumbledore seemed to freeze where he stood before lowering his head in a somewhat defeated manner, his twinkling sky-blue eyes were shadowed with unknown emotions swirling in their depths.  
  
"My God," gasped Hermione as she clasped her hands over her mouth, her frame shuddering as she started to cry. Whether it was from joy or grief was indecipherable.  
  
While she cried, similar reactions were shared amongst the group. Molly Weasley had also began to cry while her husband, Arthur, tried to comfort her. Ron was fighting a losing battle against his own tears, whereas the rest of the Weasley clan were dutifully trying to mask their feelings, but anyone could see they were stricken. The staff members sagged in their seats, gestures not unlike the one Dumbledore was showing, head lowered and a somber look on their faces. It seemed that only the Aurors of the Order were hiding their mingled emotions quite well.  
  
Sirius, however, had paled considerably. Anguish washed over him as he appeared as though close to collapsing. Remus was quickly at his side, trying to comfort his friend and lover while holding him carefully, as though the man was delicate and near to shattering. Although such news of finding out Harry was alive should have made everyone relieved and happy, it was undoubtedly apparent as to why everyone was caught up and trapped in morose grief.  
  
It was guilt and regret. The knowledge of them having given up so soon on their search for the Boy Who Lived after only a year was heart-wrenching. Each of them had surrendered to the comforting illusion that perhaps Harry had already been killed after his capture, so that he would not have to go through prolonged torture, and that he was at peace. Having found out they had a helpful hand in adding to the boy's drawn out agony of two years filled with torment was agonizing. All because they did not want to face the possibilities. That reality was indeed that cruel in letting a mere boy be prostrated before the cowardly masses and the fearsome Dark Lord as a figure-head, as a martyr, as an entire world's godforsaken savior! The boy had never asked for anything in return, but even so...they had abandoned him when he needed them the most.  
  
Severus, who was watching the various displays of emotions, turned away from the sight of the couple. The scene stung something horrible as he was reminded of that ever-present loneliness since Harry was taken. Throughout his life, he had never felt so bitterly cold and so excruciatingly alone as that moment. Shutting his eyes tightly, he tried to remember his love's smile, a smile that was only meant for him, because Harry loved only him. Didn't he?  
  
The memory of seeing his love cradled in the arms of that monster was far too sickening. The way Harry brushed past him without even the slightest glance, then sought the embrace of that snake, it was truly painful. He wanted to scream out all his suffering and frustrations upon witnessing the sight of his beloved actually nuzzling the cold and scaly flesh of that mutilated waste, a mere thing that was no longer human by any right. He wanted to cry for his loss, to shed the tears and mourn, to somehow understand what was happening in all this confusion.  
  
Unconsciously, Severus wrapped his arms about his own frame, hugging himself while his eyes remained closed. No one would be able to help him, nor comprehend how he yearned for his love. No one would understand his sorrow. 'How I desperately wish these arms were yours, holding me now with all the tenderness you exude, so that I can feel the love I know you bear for me alone. How is it that this came to be, to have you taken from me, ripped away from me and leaving me forever torn? I miss you without end, my own. I miss you...'  
  
As his thoughts continued to flow without stopping, a solitary tear slid over his pallid cheek down a lonely path, clinging as long as it could to him before falling. Unbeknownst to those around him, he took in a shuddering breath. Whispered in a hoarse and pleading whimper were the faint words that so long he denied letting himself say to his beloved, but no more for he will get him back, and finally say to him...  
  
"I love you...I love you, Harry." 'Forever and an eternity. I love you.'  
  
~*~  
  
Elsewhere, a lustful moan mingled with labored breathing were already filling the lavish chambers. Not long after, a shared cry of release was expelled into the darkness which overwhelmed the room, dissipating into panting breaths which slowly began to gradually ease into their regular rhythm. The rustling of cloth could be heard from a massive bed fit for royalty, its two occupants were currently nestled in the center, the covers thrown from their sweaty bodies.  
  
"Mmm...that was bloody marvelous."  
  
"But of course. Did you expect anything less, my pet?"  
  
Harry lazily shook his head before he shifted closer to his lover. A thin finger was sent to brush back the youth's sweaty bangs, leaving behind a beautiful and unhindered face, aside from the jagged scar upon the boy's forehead. Voldemort gazed appreciatively at the vision with rosy cheeks, skin still somewhat flushed from the pleasure experienced just minutes ago, with long tendrils of black silk splayed out over the pillows. His slender figure was molded against his own deathly pale form.  
  
A slight frown crossed over Voldemort's lips as he surveyed his own body against Harry's own enticing portrait of perfection. He was never really vain in his youth, but when compared to this beguilingly frail body, he couldn't help but miss his once robust self. His time spent as a mere parasite took its toll, having inhabited the bodies of snakes, his own essence had taken in the traits due to too much time spent within their species' bodies. However, in a day or so he wouldn't need to miss his "human" apparel, for it would be soon when he regained his former body, due to a recovered spell he had been searching for in the last few months. It would be a great surprise for his pet.  
  
Crimson eyes looked curiously into emerald ones; briefly did he wonder how Harry managed to stomach such a sight, much less make love to one. But the boy never complained or grimace at the sight of him, he never flinched whenever he touched him. As though he knew what the older man was thinking, Harry gave him a light, reassuring kiss.  
  
"Tom, I love you the way you are. You need not fear that I might find you repulsive for I do not. I never have and never will," soothed the boy. If it had been anyone else who spoke his horrid, muggle-given name, Voldemort would have eradicated them, but this was his pet—his love. Hearing his name coming from those sweet, cherry-red lips, he found it rather intimate.  
  
Voldemort would have enjoyed basking in the thought that Harry loved him, but a voice hissing in the back of his mind told him it was not so, that the boy was manipulated into believing he was. He knew it was his doing, but he didn't expect to feel pained by this fact. That the merest notion of Harry not truly in love with him by his own free will actually cut him deeply. The sad truth was in those forest-green eyes, how underneath the superficial affection was an emptiness, they were blank and unseeing.  
  
But after so long, getting to know and understand the boy, he carelessly allowed himself to feel in return. The Dark Lord had made the mistake of falling in love, with the Boy Who Lived no less. He shook his head as though to dispel his mind's ramblings; he will not dwell on those particular matters now because at that moment he wanted to spend as much time as he could with Harry before Hogwarts would resume schooling.  
  
Drawing the boy's face to him, he placed a gentle kiss upon those supple lips, his tongue reaching out and tracing the soft contours, asking for entrance. When entrance was granted, they were engaged in a passionate kiss. Harry moaned temptingly while he was pulled beneath the older man. When contact was broken, he stared up into those pools of dark scarlet, then gave a faint smile.  
  
"I'm going to miss our time together when I go. Will you miss me, too?"  
  
"Everyday, until the day when you have returned to me, my pet. But I want you to promise, that while you're attending Hogwarts, you are to stay faithful to me."  
  
Harry wanted to laugh, thinking that he was joking with him, but the seriousness in the man's eyes told him otherwise. He sensed that there was something the man was not telling him, that there was more to that matter. After all, the Dark Lord wasn't often, or rather ever, insecure of himself. Harry's initial response was a brief flash of anger flaring up inside him. How could his Tom think he'd betray him like that? Of course he'd be faithful, who else would he be with aside from his Tom?  
  
"I promise," he said after a short pause. Voldemort seemed to be relieved by this and began again his ministrations by trailing soft kisses down the boy's neck and chest.  
  
"Good, because you're mine and no one else's," he murmured possessively. "No one!" And he continued to express this fact all throughout the night.  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: Yes, Voldemort actually has a heart. All will be explained in due time concerning Harry's state. While we're getting there, please review. Give lots and lots of reviews! 


	3. Absolution Not Found

ABSOLUTION NOT FOUND  
  
The days that followed were filled with apprehension and twisting anxiety, the feelings of impatience yet dread were almost palpable in the air for those sheltered within the stone walls of the castle. Everyone was nervous as to how they would react to Harry's arrival. What would he look like now? Would he be scarred beyond repair? Or would he have been driven to the point of instability? Everyone had harassed and questioned the Potions Master, but the man would not break, instead he resorted to locking himself in his dungeons, coming out only for meals or a bit of fresh air. But most importantly, what had been plaguing their thoughts for the last few days was one question:  
  
Would Harry forgive them for abandoning him?  
  
Left with their own melancholy musings, they had tried to the best of their abilities to be as prepared as possible. That was until today, for today was the day that Harry was to return to Hogwarts, along with the rest of the school's pupils. When the evening began to draw nearer, they became restless, often trying to find various tasks to do in order to distract themselves. Some even went as far as starting to tidy up the ancient castle, much to the distress of the House Elves.  
  
As the sun fell from the heavens, sinking below the horizon in evening slumber, it gave way for the lunar wake. It was a gloomy night as dark clouds gathered around the castle, roaring thunder and flashing lightning were piercing the angry skies, and an endless downpour of rain was drowning those below. But through the deafening noise, a shrill and loud whistle was sounded; the Hogwarts Express had finally arrived. The many students who came filed in through the fortress's enormous wooden doors, soaked, and began to mill about the Great Hall. There were new faces added to the lot from last year, obviously fresh first years eager to learn magic with their faces alight in awe and wonder, despite the dreadful weather. The second years and up were already seating themselves according to their proper House table.  
  
The annual tradition was initiated with the Sorting Hat deliberating over which students best fit the distinguished Houses of Gryffindor, Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, and Slytherin. However, while the events were taking place, those who had been anxiously awaiting the arrival of one in particular were immensely puzzled. Dumbledore himself had a mild furrow upon his brow as he gazed about the room. Where was Harry?  
  
With the sorting done, Dumbledore could do nothing but proceed with his usual summarization of the rules and warnings that were to be followed at Hogwarts. That was until the doors to the Great Hall were opened. The thick slabs of wood creaked and muttered a low groan as the hinges whined in protest from age, slowly being pushed back to allow entry to two hooded figures wrapped in black cloaks. Students turned their curious gazes onto the newcomers, but quickly focused on the taller of the pair, their eyes widening fearfully. It was a Dementor, here, at Hogwarts! Ever since they had sided with the Dark Lord, none had stepped onto Hogwarts grounds, though especially not since four years ago when Dumbledore forbade them from ever returning, just after the fiasco of Sirius Black's escape.  
  
The willowy figure glided like a specter behind the shorter one, seeming to act as a loyal bodyguard while it followed obediently. The weighted thuds of leather boots echoed throughout the silent halls, added was the rustle of fabric coming from the shorter figure's cloak sweeping over the floor, with bejeweled drops of rain beginning to slither down from the material. Once reaching to stop in front of the staff table, the shorter one inclined its head towards the Dementor, whispering something before it gave a single nod, then went to leave. Crossing over the threshold, the doors sluggishly closed behind it after making its exit.  
  
A sudden crash of thunder and threaded lightning caused the students to jump in their seats. It was then they realized that the shorter figure was still present, standing before the staff table, having yet to say a word and reveal their identity. A collective hush washed over the room when the Headmaster brought himself to rise from where he sat. His wizened features masked, but a twinkle of hope shone from behind half-moon glasses, in those sky-blue eyes. This caused the figure to look up slightly, a soft but noticeably male voice, somewhat muffled, spoke up.  
  
"I apologize for being late, Headmaster Dumbledore, I was told it'd be wise that I avoid large crowds in open areas. It seems that I tend to draw a lot of...unwanted attention to myself, so I was sent to Hogwarts via portkey, instead of train," said the young man. Pale hands soon emerged in pulling back the obscuring hood, revealing the face of the Boy Who Lived. Gasps were heard all around while some students were openly pointing and gawking, whispers were already flying about, absurd guesses at how the boy escaped the clutches of Lord Voldemort were instantaneous. After two years, Harry Potter has returned to Hogwarts.  
  
"It is good to have you home again, my boy," said Dumbledore, kindly. His words sounding sincere as he addressed the youth. 'Home?' scoffed Harry, 'this place never was, is, or ever will be my home.' Belying his true feelings, Harry allowed a light smile to grace his lips, putting on the façade of relieved happiness at being "home." While he started towards the House tables, he was briefly stopped as the Headmaster added, "Harry, after the feast, would you please join me in my office?" A short nod was given before he continued on his way.  
  
No longer able to resist, both Ron and Hermione had jumped out of their seats, running to meet the young man halfway. Both had shouted his name in unison before engulfing him in tight hugs. Inwardly, Harry cringed at the unwanted contact, but allowed it nevertheless. He didn't reciprocate the action; he simply stood there till the pair had their fill. Too busy trying to fight back their tears and yammering on how much they missed him, the two prefects didn't seem to notice the lack of response, then finally released their hold on him.  
  
Joining the other Gryffindors at the table, he was greeted with each student shouting a "Welcome back, Harry!" before everyone commenced to eating their dinner, which had appeared magically. Dumbledore seemed to forgo his annual warnings, leaving it to the prefects to inform the new first years, for he had other things occupying this thoughts. As Harry ate quietly, he vaguely picked at his food from time to time, thoroughly missing being in the company of his love. He remembered their farewell fondly, reminiscing over how differently Tom looked, having successfully attained his former body.  
  
~*~ "All right, open your eyes, my pet," said Voldemort, his anticipation apparent. Harry did as he was told, opening his eyes, only to be met with a handsome visage. A look of wondrous surprise washed over his features as he studied the picture before him.  
  
Instead of a deathly pale and somewhat scaled hide, there was a stretch of gloriously tanned flesh, smooth and flawless. The man's body, no longer thin and bordering on skeletal, was filled out and strong appearing with muscles lining his frame. The roguish face was extremely handsome with aristocratic features imbued, though his eyes remained an eerie shade of ruby blood. Short-cropped hair was slightly spiked, naturally, due to the length. There was even a bit of distinguishing gray just barely touching the temple area, adding a silvery glint with the black, glossy strands.  
  
"Ah, I see my surprise has left you speechless," he chuckled, bringing Harry back from his enjoyable study of the attractive man. Voldemort sat himself on the massive bed where Harry was already sitting, bringing the youth in his arms and giving him a tender kiss on the cheek. "I did this for you, love," he whispered huskily in his ear, sounding obviously aroused while a small lick was given to the shell of the boy's ear. With Harry's back facing his chest, he gently brushed aside the silken, midnight waterfall of hair from his neck, exposing the mark the younger bore on the back.  
  
It was a claim. His claim. His claim on Harry, the boy whom captured his once frozen heart, melting it with his absolute innocence and radiant purity. But at the time it was made, the connotations of the act were far from loving, but regrettably one meant to purposely hurt his beloved, by his own hand. It was during the first few months of the boy's capture, that through the torture inflicted on him, the carved brand was made to humiliate and distort.  
  
How greatly things have changed since then.  
  
A soft, butterfly-kiss was given unto the starkly, visible scar. The gesture so chaste. A silent apology as he felt the guilt beginning to well up inside himself. Harry turned his head somewhat, enough so that he could stare into those saddened, crimson orbs, his own pools reflecting concern and confusion.  
  
"Tom?" was the quiet inquiry, worry lacing that single utterance.  
  
"Shhh...never you mind, pet. Just let me love you."  
  
And so he did. They made love endlessly and dwelled within the heart of the aftermath, until it was time for Harry to depart.~*~  
  
Caught up in his reverie, Harry had lifted a hand to rub thoughtfully at the back of his neck, where the deep scar tissues were clear, spelling out the initials "TMR." He never minded the claim placed on him by his love. Actually, he didn't really remember how the claim was made on his person to begin with. However, it always seemed to trigger a rueful mood from his Tom. Often he had reassured the man that he didn't mind "belonging" to him, but was always hushed with a kiss or was met with silence.  
  
Ron and Hermione watched as Harry was caught up in his own thoughts. Not wanting to disturb him, as they were still trying to be tentative on their approach to the boy, they let him be. By the time dinner was over, the prefects ushered out the students to head for their dorms, with Ron and Hermione following suit having responsibilities to do the same. Heaving a sigh, Harry slowly rose from his seat and headed to the staff table, where the Headmaster, Professor Lupin, and Professor Snape were waiting. From there, they started for the Headmaster's office, going up the rising staircase.  
  
When they entered the room, Harry was unexpectedly pulled into a bone- crushing and suffocating hug.  
  
"Harry! Oh, Merlin! It's you, it's really you!" shouted his attacker.  
  
The shock made Harry struggle furiously on instinct, managing to free himself when he elbowed his captor in the gut. A grunted "oof" met his ears as he stumbled to back away from whoever "attacked" him. He was stopped, however, by a pair of strong hands gripping his shoulders. Swiveling around, he was met with a worried Potions Master.  
  
"Harry," soothed the professor's lulling baritone, "it's all right. You're okay here. No one is going to hurt you, I promise."  
  
"Get away from me," was the derisive reply as Harry pushed himself away from Severus. A stunned and hurt look flickered over the man's face before it was replaced with indifference. Harry found this odd, but put the thought behind him; he would think about the man's strange reaction some other time. "I don't need anymore lies from any of you."  
  
"Harry! What are you talking about, we would never lie to you," cried his "attacker." Turning to see who it was, Harry was confronted with a very strained looking Sirius Black. The teen crossed his arms over his chest, locking gazes with his godfather, his expression, mocking.  
  
"Tom warned me of your devious methods. I assure you, I will not succumb."  
  
"Harry, how can you say that?!"  
  
Sirius made to grab a hold on the boy then shake some sense into him when Dumbledore lifted a hand, gesturing for the upset animagus to regain his hold on his impulsive nature.  
  
"Stop now, Sirius," commanded the aged wizard. "We don't want to frighten him. Please, allow me?" Sirius looked as if he were about to protest when Remus placed a calming hand on his lover's shoulder. Reluctantly, he conceded. It was now Dumbledore's turn to address the young man.  
  
"Harry," began the wizened figure with copious amounts of genuine kindness; Harry was having none of it, "why do you not trust us?"  
  
In a low, even voice, without inflection or any sense of "Harry," the boy spoke in a soft, dangerous tone.  
  
"Because you are the enemy. All who oppose the Dark Lord shall perish; there will be no muggles to pollute this world or half-breeds spreading their diseased existence. The pestilence that is yourselves will be eradicated, extinguished from this earth."  
  
The words were undoubtedly rehearsed, ingrained, as the boy gave his speech. Bleak depths of hardened emeralds held nothing. Absolutely nothing. Harry then made his departure from the room, leaving the remaining professors to stare horrified at his retreating form.  
  
Harry, their Harry, was gone.  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: Please read and review. Give lots of reviews, I would like to know if this fic is even worth continuing. 


	4. Lapsing Into Oblivion

LAPSING INTO OBLIVION  
  
Steady footsteps faltered as the stone walls appeared to blur, his body swayed uneasily as he tried to shake off the growing headache, only succeeding into further dizziness. Harry rested a hand against the wall, leaning heavily, his breath coming in shortened pants as he struggled to regain his composure. From a golden chain at his breast pocket, he pulled out a beautifully decorated watch. He cursed softly before his grip became lax, letting the watch fall, dangling by its glistening chain.  
  
'I shouldn't have waited so long,' he thought. Shaking hands fumbled about the dampened cloak, trying to find the right pocket. Just when Harry managed to retrieve a small vial, he hissed in pain, dropping the vial. It clinked on the floor before rolling off to the side. His head was throbbing as he grasped at it futilely, hands firmly clenched, while he gritted his teeth in refusal to cry out.  
  
Screams were tearing through his mind, lashing out with a shrieking force, piercing and numbing. The notes warbled and shuddered, then pitched higher in a desperate, keening whine that echoed mercilessly in hollowed, uncaring confines. Images flashed bright and harsh, searing his brain as they imprinted their grotesque mosaic of flooding chaos. The scenes rippled and shattered while in their various states of manifestation, unstable as they fought to reach lucidity.  
  
Harry fell back against the unyielding wall, sliding down to the floor where he gasped, a clawed hand, contorted by pain, reached out in blind motion for the vial. His fingers brushed over the surface of the eluding bottle then gripped it tightly. Uncorking it as fast as he could, he downed the vile potion quickly, sputtering slightly as the liquid burned along its course. His body was shivering hard, jerking, still shaking as he waited for the concoction to take affect.  
  
That was how Severus found him.  
  
~*~  
  
Once Harry left Dumbledore's office, a flurry of events happened all at once. Sirius was cursing in all his fury, his feelings of helplessness, being unable to protect his godson, only served to fuel his anger. Remus wanted to soothe the enraged animagus but reserved himself to sitting quietly in a chair, too consumed within the disbelief at how wrong everything was becoming. Sitting in his desk chair with a pensive look, Dumbledore was kept in his own thoughts as well, contemplating what Harry had said. Severus was staring at the closed door, his posture emanating how lost he felt at that moment. That was, until a hard punch pummeled the side of his face, causing him to fall gracelessly to the floor.  
  
"Sirius!" shouted Remus, appalled by the unexpected show of violence as he fought to restrain his lover. Though difficult as it was, he managed to do so, the ex-convict still jostling them as he continued to fight, but with less conviction as he settled for more yelling than hitting.  
  
"This is ENTIRELY your fault, Snape! Because of you, my godson is DEAD! GONE! So why did you do it, huh?! Did that bastard make a deal with you?! Is that how it is?! Just FUCK him then leave him?! Gain his trust then betray him?! You loathsome shit! I should—"  
  
"I was NOT the one who abandoned him, Black, YOU did!" spat Severus. He had just about enough of the man's tantrums, he could ignore them and had been doing so for as long as he could remember, but when he even dared question his love for Harry, that was it. The mutt had gone too far! Picking himself off the floor and wiping the bit of blood trickling from his mouth, he retorted with his own choice words.  
  
"ALL of you abandoned Harry, I was the ONLY one who ever believed he was still alive, still surviving! YOU are the ones to be blamed for condemning him to an early grave! You claim you care for him so much, but you did absolutely NOTHING in trying to find him, while I scoured the entire wizarding world, searching and hoping to find him! YOU were too BUSY having your own fling with the werewolf, when your godson was being tortured, so don't you dare look down your damn nose at me, Black!!"  
  
By this time, Severus was completely red with unsurpassed anger, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, having shouted the whole time. Silence reined supreme over the group, having nothing more to scream at one another. Sirius sagged in Remus's arms, his burst of emotional release quickly fading from him. Severus straightened his robes and tried to regain himself when he peered over to the Headmaster.  
  
He arched a brow as the old man was continuing to sit benignly in his seat. It was odd. The elder always ceased his arguments with Black. Yet, this time he had chosen to remain quiet throughout the entire fight.  
  
"Albus," said Severus, breaking their mute state, "what is it you're thinking?"  
  
"Tom," he replied simply.  
  
"What?"  
  
"Harry called Voldemort by his name. Tom. Tom Marvolo Riddle."  
  
The three men shared a puzzled expression before the Headmaster continued in his explanation.  
  
"Many either do not know or have forgotten Voldemort's true identity for he has so long been addressed as such, or as You Know Who. Yourselves included. I, however, still remember for I knew him longer than anyone, even taught him Transfiguration. Harry had spoken his name. I believe this poses as a most drastic and dire problem in bringing our Harry back to us, for it may or may not be too late. The extent of Voldemort's manipulation over Harry remains very much uncertain at this point."  
  
"But Harry is able to throw off Imperio, so it is not by the Imperius curse," interjected Remus.  
  
"And is coherent without mild hindrance, so he has not been Obliviated," added Sirius.  
  
"That is correct, however, there are many other ways other than spells that would have affected him from the exterior. What I suspect is something more potent, something that would have been administered into him, absorbed. Entering the bloodstream, the very physical form. Severus, has Voldemort ordered you to brew any potions regarding mind manipulation or memory deterioration?"  
  
"No, he hasn't," he said flatly, "we've been directed on numerous missions, but all of which are frivolous in my opinion. A means to distract us, I realize now, nothing more."  
  
"So he suspects something...has he concluded the fact that you are the spy?"  
  
"No, I don't believe so. Or else he would have had be stay behind, to be punished then killed."  
  
Dumbledore nodded in agreement, though his snowy brows were furrowed. Nothing was adding up thus far.  
  
"Severus, I want you to keep Harry with you."  
  
"What?!" perked Sirius, straightened and ready to argue.  
  
"Albus?" asked Severus, totally bewildered at the man's order. He didn't know whether to be glad at finally getting Harry alone to himself so that they may talk, or completely fearful of what he'd find was truly the cause of Harry's disturbing change.  
  
"Please. You were the one closest to him...perhaps it would be for the best." He held up a hand to stop Sirius from interrupting him. "No matter what spell or potion is cast unto a person, the human mind is layered and too complicated to ever really be erased. Even Obliviate just merely represses a person's memories, but the memories are still there, not completely wiped clean. If Harry is constantly in the presence of something or someone with great amount of significance to him, then the memories should slowly replenish themselves."  
  
"But Albus," said Severus in a low, controlled voice, "I don't know if I can, if I'll be able to..."  
  
"He loved you, Severus, and I'm sure he loves you still."  
  
When the Potions Master heard those words, a painful twinge plucked at his heart. 'What if you're wrong, Albus?' he thought bitterly, 'what if Harry no longer loves me and instead, loves that...that...thing. Heaven knows if you are wrong about this, it wouldn't be the first time you were misguided. Your optimism blinds you.'  
  
"Besides," said Dumbledore, softly and carefully, "if Harry is indeed showing signs of loyalty to Voldemort, then we cannot allow him near the rest of the students. Not alone, anyway. It would be dangerous."  
  
So, it was settled. Final. Severus rushed out the room in search for Harry before the boy could reach the Gryffindor dorms, stalking through the corridors and winding hallways, conscious of the finicky staircases as they swung languidly. When he at last found his love, he was crumpled on the floor, shivering badly and twitching somewhat. Upon sighting the emptied vial in Harry's grasp, he feared that the younger might have attempted to kill himself.  
  
Panic and trepidation caused him to fall on his knees beside Harry, he reached to press two fingers on his neck, searching for a pulse. He released the breath he was holding when finding the quickened pulse, which soon calmed, but not slowing to a dead stop. Looking into hooded, green eyes, it was clear that he was bordering on unconsciousness; the exhaustion beginning to take over. Scooping him up in his arms, he held onto his love protectively as he cautiously made his way to the dungeons, careful not to jar the boy.  
  
~*~ "Must I, really?" protested Harry, "I feel fine as is."  
  
Harry looked down at the bound case filled with numerous vials, each containing a light, mint-colored liquid. He never liked taking the dreadful potion, it tasted disgusting and foul, but his Tom had told him it was to help him. Every night before he'd slip into bed, a dosage of the potion was taken, and every night he'd grimace at the awful sensation it caused while pouring down his throat. When Tom had announced that he was to return to Hogwarts, he thought that that meant he was deemed healthy enough, as he was to be away from his lover's watchful eye, and never have to ingest the stuff ever again.  
  
But it appeared he was mistaken.  
  
A soothing touch; the gentle caress of his lover's hand smoothed over his pale cheek. Harry nuzzled into the warmth of that palm before it was taken away. He mumbled a faint mewl of protest, but was silent when his chin was tilted upwards, meeting the scarlet eyes of his lover.  
  
"Please, love. You know it is solely for your well-being that I ask you to continue taking it. I don't want you getting hurt because you've neglected to take your...medication."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Hush," whispered Tom, placing a finger over the youth's lips, "Do it for me, will you? Just humor me, please, love?" asked Tom in earnest.  
  
A resigned nod was given before a light kiss was pressed onto his forehead, on the very scar that lay scrawled jaggedly in the soft flesh.  
  
"Thank you. Now, gather your things, you'll be leaving soon. Remember, every night, same time as always, take one vial of the potion. If you require a replenished source, simply send an owl and I will see to it that you receive it—do not go to the Potions Master. It would be best that you stay away from him."  
  
Another nod before he was enfolded in loving arms.  
  
"Do not, under any circumstance, forget. Understood?"  
  
"I understand," sighed Harry while he snuggled against the man's broad chest, listening to the strong beats of his lover's heart, a lulling rhythm that never failed to comfort him.  
  
"Good. We'll be together once more, my pet, do not fret. Go, now."  
  
And so he went.~*~  
  
The memory was beginning to dissipate when he started to become more aware of his surroundings. Scanning the room, he noticed it was not the Gryffindor dorms, but somewhere entirely different. He could hear the subtle crackling of a fire that glowed and warmed the room, its flickering flames causing a dance of shadows to play off stone walls. Sitting up on the cushioned bed, he groaned a bit when his head felt a dull throb, but gradually disappear when he rubbed at his temples. It was then he noticed his cloak was taken off, leaving him in his casual, tailored robes made fit for only him.  
  
The room was moderately decorated, nothing too lavish or barren, simply tasteful. The floors were carpeted with the barest of furniture, just the essentials: a medium-sized sofa in front of the fire, with a chair to the side (his cloak dried and draped over the back), a table took the center, the bed was placed against the far wall behind the sofa, facing the fire as well, a bedside table, and a desk to the right beside the door. There was another door across from where Harry remained on the bed, beside the fireplace, most likely leading to a bathroom.  
  
Where was this place?  
  
There was an abrupt sound of something creaking on hinges, swinging open, before the main doorway was opened. The room was protected by a portrait. In came the Potions Master, Professor Snape, his face showing signs of weariness from worrying over the collapsed young man. 'So, this is Snape's room, I wonder how I came to be here?' thought Harry.  
  
The man halted from where he entered, his expression softening slightly upon sighting his love, now conscious.  
  
"I see you've recovered," he said in a relieved tone. The boy canted his head to the side, curiosity and confusion showing brightly in those green orbs.  
  
"Why am I here, Professor? I should be in the Gryffindor dorms, should I not?"  
  
"Ah, about that, I thought it would be more fitting that I was to watch over you. The Headmaster has already agreed."  
  
"Why?"  
  
"Because the man is blind to my true nature, he trusts my decisions implicitly. As well am I one of the Dark Lord's most trusted Death Eaters, therefore, it would be wise that I keep his...ward ...safe."  
  
'He doesn't seem like a threat, I wonder why Tom instructed me to keep away from him? Surely the man couldn't be that bad if we was willing to care for me.?' An odd sensation of contentment enveloped Harry as he thought this, but it was ultimately quashed under the weight of one logical reason and suspicion. 'Of course he'd be willing. He's one of Tom's followers, no doubt just another spineless wretch trying to gain his favor through me.'  
  
Severus watched as a myriad of emotions filtered onto his love's beautiful features. How he missed gazing upon that porcelain face, so delicate and fine, with lips a tempting shade of passionate rose-red. Raven strands were now lustrous midnight tresses that cascaded over his petite yet lithe frame. But, Merlin, how he missed those shimmering emerald hues that once looked at him with reciprocated longing, and above all, love. Sensing the unease that was beginning to emanate from his beloved, he spoke to alleviate his worries, knowing perfectly well what was bothering him.  
  
"I assure you that this is not a ploy for me to gain rank among the Inner Circle."  
  
Harry's head snapped up. The man had figured exactly what he was thinking. A slight blush of embarrassment tainted his cheeks. Was he THAT transparent? However, he somehow knew that wasn't entirely the case. He felt a certain connection with this man, something he knew ran deeper than anything he had ever experienced or felt, but how could that be?  
  
'He's blushing! Oh, he looks so much like my Harry...perhaps Albus was correct, dare I believe? Dare I hope again? Maybe there still lingers a chance. He is still the same, innocent and selfless person who loved me. Who genuinely loves me for me, as I do him.'  
  
"I'm afraid everything has been thrown askew. Might we start from the beginning?" 'Merlin, let us begin again. If that is the only way to get you back, Harry, then so be it.' He carefully approached the boy, offering his hand, showing absolutely no signs of any deviousness. "I am Severus Snape."  
  
Harry seemed to mull over what the professor had to say before smiling shyly. Maybe he didn't have to be alone here, at Hogwarts. He could have a friend while away from his Tom. Also, maybe he could find out exactly what this man meant to him, or did he mean anything at all? He was sure he'd discover the answers to all his questions, so long as he stayed with his new companion. Offering his own hand, their hands clasped together in a perfect mold, while warmth radiated from their combined touch.  
  
"I'm Harry Potter. It is a pleasure to meet you, Severus."  
  
"The pleasure is all mine, Harry...the pleasure is all mine."  
  
~*~  
  
Author's Note: I hope some of you have figured out what that potion's purpose is for. Anyhoo, keep those reviews coming, please. They are what feed my muses and keep them from withering away into nothing, much like what would happen to this fic if those reviews should happen to cease to exist. 


	5. From The Shadows

FROM THE SHADOWS

Severus looked at the harmless vial in his hand. It was the very same one he found beside Harry when his love collapsed.

'What could this possibly be? I'll have to run some tests on whatever residue is left to find out what he took.'

Watching as his beloved slept on his bed while he kept watch from beside him, he smile sadly before bringing a hand to caress the youth's face. How me missed watching his Harry sleep. 'He looks like an angel.'

Harry nuzzled into the gentle hand, loving the warmth that came from the tender strokes. Shifting on the bed, he nestled closer towards the other form, wrapping an arm around the figure. A breathy sigh was given before he returned to his peaceful slumber. The almost inaudible mumbles coming from those rose-petal lips...

"Tom."

Severus flinched at the name. It was not his name uttered from his love's lips. It was another, Voldemort's. Swallowing back the rising bile in his throat, he harnessed a tight hold on the anger threatening to engulf him as he thought of that grotesque creature touching his love. No, he would get his Harry back, he would see to it.

Until then, everything would have to be as normal as possible.

'Oh, cruel fate. To bring him back only to discover he is still gone. But I will not be denied, you have taken too much from me already...I will not fail him. Not again.'

The first day of the new term had started, Ron and Hermione waited with the rest of the seventh year Gryffindors and Slytherins for their first Defense Against the Dark Arts class, both anxious with worry marring their faces. Harry, as Ron had informed Hermione, did not join his fellow housemates in the dormitory, nor was he present at morning's breakfast. Class was about to start and they had yet to see their newly reunited friend. Where was Harry?

Just as the students were settling into their seats, the boy in question entered with none other than Professor Snape, taking one of the neglected seats in front rather than joining Ron and Hermione in the back. This caused many curious glances and stirrings, whispers were being thrown frantically, questions arising. Snape gave a distasteful sneer before barking out an order for everyone to shut their traps.

Since the war between the Light and Dark were progressing, the Headmaster had finally conceded defeat in finding a suitable and long-term Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher. The classes would be shared in shifts between himself and Snape. It seemed that the Potions Master had finally gotten his wish, albeit partial, in being the next Defense Against the Dark Arts professor (much to the displeasure of the students, except the Slytherins).

"Silence, you useless peons," he growled, "I will not tolerate any nonsense while I am to teach you dunderheads the knowledge to defend yourselves, as much as I doubt your pitiful abilities, I will not have my time wasted!" Sifting through a large text, he briefly browsed over a few passages before stopping at the page he wanted. "Chapter three, section five. Now!"

A students still jumped at the professor's harsh tone, the rest already used to his sour mannerisms, before turning their books to the appropriate pages. That day, they were to be studying more lethal spells. Far different from their previous years, where they merely studied jinxes, this year they were to learn curses, spells just bordering on true Dark Arts. How to cast as well deflect.

Today's lesson was on a curse that would cause the recipient to suffer simple and slow asphyxiation, usually leaving the victim without voice to speak the counter-spell, being too distracted in trying to gulp in breaths of air while panicked. The idea was to ready the nerves, preparation for the reality of battle, and calmly cast the counter-spell once mastering it. Professor Snape called for the two houses to form lines, mixing the Gryffindors and Slytherins, surprising the students. However, one glare from the intimidating man ceased their wondering and they commenced to follow his orders. One student from each line would face the another, some facing their own housemates, taking turns in cursing and countering.

Thus the pairs proceeded with the lesson, each cursing the other, their methods and whatever progress made, under the watchful eye of the surly professor. Many attempts called for the man to signal the spell caster to stop before the receiving student passed out or was really harmed. So far, there were few successes in casting but deflecting was another matter, not even Hermione could deflect the curse when first hit.

"That's enough Mr. Malfoy," said Professor Snape.

Coughing, Hermione got up off the ground, throwing a glare at the smug face of Draco Malfoy, her partner for the lesson, then made her way to the back of the line as did he.

"Pathetic. Potter, Weasley, you're up."

Both boys faced each other, wands out at the ready, taking similar stances as if in a duel. "Weasley, you first." The red-head nodded a bit hesitantly before steadying himself, gripping his wand securely as he met Harry's bored expression, trying to keep his thoughts from straying in bewilderment at the other's strange behavior.

"Constrictio!" yelled Ron, swishing his wand as instructed in the book. A flash of light blue was shot towards Harry, barely making him step back when hit. Not even fazed as the air was being forced from his lungs, Harry promptly muttered a "Finite Incantatum," effectively ending the spell. The Gryffindors clapped in awe, impressed by his cool precision, while the Slytherins shot dirty looks at him.

Harry and Ron locked gazes before the shorter boy gave a most disquieting smile. Pocketing his wand, Ron looked at him perplexed. Why was Harry so blatantly disarming himself?

"My turn."

A flood of power immersed the entire classroom, quieting the students as they felt something brush against their own magic, registering but not fully comprehending what was happening. Some shuddered at the sensation, not liking its foreboding mood, warily they looked to one another.

"Constrictio."

The curse was spoken softly, but drew the students' eyes to the pair at the front nonetheless, just in time to see Harry give a flippant gesture of the hand, his wand left in his pocket. A bold flash of light blue lightning arced towards the ceiling before colliding into Ron's chest. The young Weasley was slammed into the ground, his limbs flailing as half screams, half gasps were being shrieked. His hands clawed at his neck, trying desperately to breathe, but only wheezing as the air was being snatched away from him in a rush. There was no breath left in him.

"That's enough, Potter!" shouted Professor Snape, getting over his initial shock. Harry could do wandless magic!

Harry ignored the man as he simply watched Ron twist and whine, wheeze and shudder. Canting his head to the side, with morbid fascination he observed as the color drained rapidly from the boy's face, turning a dangerous shade of ashen blue. The smile he wore morphed into an eerie grin. Ron's eyes were wide, fearful, pleading. Life was bleeding from him. Just as the filth deserved.

"Potter!" tried Snape, again. Nothing. By now the students were panicked themselves; Hermione was screaming for Harry to stop, though the shock of what was being witnessed paralyzed her from taking action. Even the Slytherins were extremely taken aback by such turn of events. Everything was so surreal.

"Stop it, Harry!"

Ron's eyes were rolling to the back of his head, his body now still, an idle thought wandered through his hazing mind: Was this how his life going to end? Now? At the hands of his best friend?

A blur of motion; Harry was pushed off to the side, hard, knocked back by Professor Snape himself. With the connection broken, Severus was able to intervene with a flick of the wand and shout of "Finite Incatatum." Ron was already unconscious by this point, however, color was slowly coming back to his face. He was no longer being choked to death.

"Miss Granger, please take Mr. Weasley up to the Hospital Wing. Class dismissed."

The students began pushing their way out the door, hurrying to get away from the Boy Who Lived, anxious to get to a safe location. This left Severus alone with Harry, who was standing himself up, brushing off his robes as he looked up at the man irritably.

"Why the hell did you stop me, Severus? What's the matter with you?"

"I should be asking you that." 'My god, what has happened to you, Harry?' "Do you not realize the dangers you have invoked?" questioned Severus, his voice strained. Desperately, he tried to reassert himself, thinking up any excuse he could use. It would not do to let slip his disloyalty as a Death Eater. He had no doubt that if he were to allow any suspicious actions on his part, Harry would transfer the information onto Voldemort, his position as spy would be revealed.

And all hopes of getting Harry back would become null.

"Dangers? By ridding this world of one pest? I assure you, no one would miss him."

"By all means, kill the little brat. Merlin knows I've been wanting to do so for years. But you'll have to wait; be patient for the right time to strike. You were to make them feel helpless, not triggering them into action, and so soon for that matter. If you had killed him now, Dumbledore would surely constrain you, or if not him, the Ministry would become involved and our Master's plan would have been wasted."

At the mention of the slightest possibility of failing his Tom, Harry was mortified. What had he done? He did not want to disappoint his love, he wanted to make him proud.

"What...what should I do now, then? I don't want to fail him," Harry said uneasily, "I don't want Tom to think I don't love him because I botched the mission. I do love him, I just wanted to help!"

Pain struck Severus immediately at Harry's words. 'He loves him? But that just can't be...' How would he ever be able to restore Harry, his Harry? However, that which does not kill us, can only make us stronger. Keeping that in mind, he focused himself, calming the irrational part of his brain. He had to be strong, for Harry, for them both.

The Potions Master's expression suddenly sobered, a thought coming to mind, his determination boundless. Maybe there was a way to use Harry's devotion for Lord Voldemort against that snake. The boy obviously did not want to do anything that would displease the Dark Lord, maybe that was the key. Harry awaited the man to speak, eager for any solution he might have to offer, he wanted very much wanted to correct this mistake.

"Well, perhaps there is something."

"Yes? What is it? What can I do?"

"An Apprenticeship."

Puzzled, Harry looked at the man quizzically and asked, "Be your apprentice? But I don't see how that will make things better."

"You won't need to attend these frivolous classes, since obviously your skills are far beyond what is required, leaving you enough time to plan your next move. This small mistake can be rectified easily, so you can initiate something less dramatic and won't compromise the mission. I will be taking care of your schedule as well tutoring; there would be no need for you to join the rest of the student body if you do not wish to." 'Hopefully keeping you at my side, staying close so that I can find a cure as soon as possible. Also, this should keep the others safe; I will not allow you to become a killer, not like him, never like him.'

Severus could see the plain hesitance in the boy's features as he mulled over his options. When Harry seemed as though he would decline, the Potions Master spoke up, knowing exactly what to say in order to persuade him.

"Don't you want to succeed, for the Dark Lord? He'd be extremely pleased, I'm sure of it."

This definitely prompted the boy's mind to change drastically, agreeing wholeheartedly, if only for his Tom then he would do it.

"All right, I'll become your Apprentice."

Author's Note: Hm...not really pleased with this chapter, didn't go quite as how I planned it. Anyhoo, tell me what you think? Good? Bad? Just blah?


	6. Ensnared By Evil

Author's Note: I've got to warn you guys, some of the stuff in this chapter is gory and graphic. If you can't handle it, I suggest you skip over it. If you have a sense of morbid curiosity, then by all means, read it all. Also, for some reason all my line breaks have been disappearing on me once I post my stories, so I'm adding the actual word "break" to help those who have difficulty in differentiating between them. Same request as always, I want lots and lots of reviews, please. Enjoy!

ENSNARED BY EVIL

Weeks had passed since the Defense incident. Ron recovered from his injuries, at least physically. When news spread about what happened, no one really wanted to hang around Harry. It was almost an exact repeat of the year when the basilisk was set loose and everyone avoided the Boy Who Lived like the plague, having thought he was the heir of Salazar Slytherin.

The Headmaster was able to contain the problem by explaining how dangerous spells could, at any time, backfire and that that was what had happened. However, no one was truly put at ease by Dumbledore's reassurances. They had their own versions of the truth they believed in. In any case, the accomplished outcome was the same as Dumbledore had hoped for, no one spoke about the incident ever again.

Harry did not have to attend classes like normal students because of the apprenticeship. He was given private rooms that were adjoined to Severus's own quarters so that the "master" could keep a watchful eye on his supposed ward. The young man was often found in the library, looking over the restricted section, completely intent on constructing a new strategy. Other times he was locked away in his rooms, studying.

Studying for what exactly, Severus did not want to know. All he could do was make sure that the amount of damage Harry would try to invoke would be as minimal as possible. He'd have to do that without compromising his façade as a loyal Death Eater. He was certainly not looking forward to whatever it was Harry was planning.

BREAK

Severus rubbed futilely at his temples, trying to rid himself of the growing headache that pounded inside his skull like a trapped thing. With weary eyes he stared numbly at the table littered in a mess of tomes, glass instruments, bits of chopped ingredients and foaming liquids. It was four in the morning and still he was up fiddling with different potions. He was exhausted.

Beside a half crumbled piece of bicorn chipping, there laid a yellowed scrap of parchment with hastened scribbles written on it. The notes consisted of a list of ingredients, some scratched off and others underlined or circled with a question mark scrawled by it. At the very bottom were two words written in big bold letters:

**ISKIOS PHILTRE**

He finally figured out what it was that changed Harry. Also, he managed to narrow down the ingredients that were used to create it. So what now? There was little to no information about the concoction except that it was first thought of and brewed by a wizard named Octavius Treylaynka back in the year 998, about two years before Hogwarts was first established circa. 1000.

Treylaynka was a feared wizard who had been well known for using his potion-making skills to prey on other wizards and witches. He had a penchant for ones that severely crippled the mind of its freedom, seeking to control those of higher power or women of his sadistic fancy, to bend them to his will. It was rumored that he was killed by Salazar Slytherin for the man's expansive knowledge on potions which he had kept recorded, but the story was never confirmed. There was no proof that Slytherin murdered the brilliant wizard, only speculation.

However, since Treylaynka had been such a hazard to wizard society, not many cared if the man was disposed of, anyway. The world was thought to be a better place with his death. Even if Slytherin were proven to have killed Treylaynka, not that they really tried to, it would have been likely he'd be rewarded rather than punished. It was like no trace of the man was left for all of Treylaynka's spells disappeared, only witnessed sightings could uphold the fact that the man ever existed.

The Iskios Philtre, directly translated as the "shadow love potion," was one of the last potions that Treylaynka created after said having been rejected by a woman he was enamored with. When Severus had read over that bit of information, he couldn't stop himself from snorting in disgust. 'Nothing like a love scorned to make one motivated,' he thought bitterly.

It was thought that Iskios Philtre could rival the power of Amortentia, categorized as being the strongest love potion in the world. Though Amortentia was listed as a love potion, the concoction actually created an intense obsession rather than love. But given the fact that the information for making Iskios Philtre had been erased, missing, Amortentia remained as the strongest. No experiments could be conducted to test the theory or extent of power Iskios Philtre had.

BREAK

Shuffling to his desk, he plopped down onto his chair none too gracefully, his bones aching after not being able to sit for so long. Leaning back in his chair, Severus closed his eyes for a moment to ease the strain. He had been wracking his brain for every scrap of knowledge he had about potions, but it only helped to further tire him out. A minute or two passed before he sat upright again.

Reaching for the last drawer on the right side of his desk, he pulled it out and rummaged through its contents. Shoving the folders aside, he unlocked a small clasp that was hidden below, opening it to reveal a secret compartment. In the space was a lonely looking glass orb. Grabbing it, the sphere fit snugly in his large hand, about the size of a grapefruit.

Ink-stained fingers ran over the smooth surface. The gesture would have seemed loving if not for the slight tremble that passed over those long, elegant fingers. Black eyes stared unwavering at the harmless looking orb, turning it idly in his palms. The lost expression on his face making it appears as though he were remembering something from long ago.

FLASHBACK:

Harry had just been abducted the night before, a couple of months away from when his fifth year would be complete. Instead of staying at Hogwarts over the winter break, he had been sent back to the Dursley's for it was thought that it was much safer there with the charm protecting him still intact. How very wrong they were.

The Dark Mark that loomed over the wreckage of Number 4 indicated it was Lord Voldemort who had attacked. After news of the boy's disappearance was made known, Dumbledore ordered for those closest to Harry to take refuge in Hogwarts. He barred them from returning to their homes in fear that Voldemort would go after Harry's loved ones next.

That morning was one filled with fear and trepidation, the horror of their current situation finally having time to seep in. The Order, Weasleys, and Hermione were gathered in the Great Hall, settled at one table with breakfast prepared in front of them, though no one touched the food. Severus could not bring himself to eat, his stomach too twisted in painful knots, the tragedy of loss causing him to lose his appetite. That moment a large raven swooped in through the windows above where the owls usually came to deliver mail.

Upon seeing the package grasped tightly in its sharp talons, those of the Order had whipped out their wands, ready to blast the gliding bird and what it carried in case it was some sort of weapon or bomb. Albus raised his hand to stop them from doing anything rash. With a gesture, he motioned for them to put their wands away before returning his attention to the raven. The raven circled above like some black vulture before descending, nearing the Headmaster enough so that it could deposit the package into the Headmaster's outstretched hands, and left without so much of a noise.

The aged wizard cautiously unfolded the wrappings with everyone watching. Severus stared intently at the package, his hands gripping so tight until white shown on his knuckles under the table. He swallowed hard, though his throat was so dry it made the effort painful. Unveiling the package, it was an orb.

"What is it, Albus," asked Minerva who came to stand beside the Headmaster.

"Is it from Voldemort," demanded Sirius, he too was standing but stayed where he was at.

"I do not know," admitted Dumbledore, "it does not seem to be jinxed." Suddenly, a ray of light shot out from the orb, startling the Headmaster and the rest with its blinding intensity. He dropped the orb accidentally, but instead of breaking, the sphere rolled away. Appearing to have a life of its own, the orb spun about on the stone floor, hot pulsing white continuing to flood the room.

The people in the room tried to shield their eyes from the throbbing glare. Everyone waited for it to pass. A gut wrenching scream pierced through the silence, startling them from their confusion.

"What the hell was that," shouted Sirius, his arm was lifted to help ward off the brilliant flash.

The light lessened in its intensity, allowing them to finally see what was happening to the orb. From the glass sphere, a concentrated beam was spread thick in the shape of an upside-down triangle, reflecting disconcerting images like a move screen.

Blinking away the spottiness to their vision, they were met with a horrifying scene. Harry hung naked and battered in what looked like your typical dungeon chamber with bloodied walls. His wrists and ankles were chained in the front of him to the ceiling above, leaving him to dangle lifeless in the air. Bruises blotted the once smooth expanse of pale skin, some in differing stages of healing, ranging from dark purplish ones to sickly greenish yellow spots.

Dried and flaking bits of blood sprinkled down from where the rusted shackles were bound at and rubbed against his abused wrists and ankles. Sheen of sweat could be seen glazing his body with dirt smudges smeared over scrapes and gaping wounds. Suspicious looking frayed designs made imperfect circles on his back, the center of them colored in by something dark that wasn't just average shadows caused by the poor lighting. On the floor right below him there laid strange shriveled pieces of leathery material in a pool of splattered, congealing blood.

It was human flesh. The patches on Harry's back were skinned places, the darkness being blood and exposed muscle tissue. The lack of neatness showed by the tattered edges gave the inclination it was not a clean cut. Someone had slowly ripped the flesh away from his back, causing the unevenness and frayed appearance.

Those grotesque patches were not the only things on Harry's back. Raised welts broke across the patches, still dripping fresh blood to add to the growing pool. The undisturbed straightness of the lines made it clear that the marks came afterwards. After he was skinned, he was whipped over the rawness.

Knife wounds, superficial and deep, littered the rest of his body, but were concentrated especially over his chest and abdomen. Trembling torchlight glittered off the surface of blood that covered his stomach. The pull of gravity forced the viscous fluid to slowly ooze over his sides and slop onto the ground. It was difficult to see whether or not he was breathing.

"I-is he…is he dead?" Sirius's chest felt so tight it hurt to breathe. Some of those with weak stomachs could no longer stand to see Harry's mangled body, they fell to the floor, vomiting. Hermione had fallen to the floor on her hands and knees, retching. Everyone was deathly pale.

The body twitched. A jolt ran through the crowd that had gathered to watch the gruesome sight. Though they hoped Harry wasn't dead, they also dreaded the possibility that he was still alive, too.

His head had been lolled back, face hidden at first. Another jerk of his prone body showed signs of life coming back to him. His whole frame shook with the effort to raise his head, emitting sounds of clinking metal from his chains. Remus and Tonks instantly looked away, their hands cupped over their mouths, trying to calm their stomachs but doing a poor job of it. They couldn't help but join the others on the floor.

The face was nothing more than a bloody mask. One of Harry's eyes was swollen shut, his lip split and puffy. Though horrible alone, that wasn't the worst. He had been gagged with a metal spike that was shoved into his mouth through his cheeks.

Two sharp, pointed ends protruded from each side, through the soft flesh of his face. The ends were strapped tightly around the back of his head so that it wouldn't move, but caused the wounds to be stretched more, ripping the holes bigger. He tried to breathe as little and shallow as possible, desperate not to irritate the gag in any way so that it wouldn't hurt more than it possibly could. Dried tear tracks couldn't be seen, too mingled with the crimson layer.

"Sssay hello to your friendsss, Harry." A sibilant voice slithered out, filling the room of onlookers with tension. Harry moaned, the sound slightly muffled, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side as if trying to concentrate on the words. Could he not hear well?

Dried blood flaked from his ears and down the side of his neck. His eardrums had been perforated. Voldemort came into view of the lighted screen, his reptilian features thoughtful as the monster looked down at a pair of stained earplugs he held up with one spidery hand. A soft glint came from the metal pins that stuck out from the plugs.

"I sssuppossse I ssshould have kept thessse until later. No matter. We can get him to ssspeak another way." A masked Death Eater parted from the shadows then came up behind Harry's head, violently the Death Eater jerked at the straps of the boy's gag. Tortured screams were dulled to a gurgling whimper. Saliva dribbled out from his forced open mouth, tinged pink by fresh blood from his ruined cheeks.

"There now, that wasssn't ssso difficult, wasss it?" Cold laughter seeped out from a lipless mouth. "Asss you can sssee, Dumbledore, I have your pet Gryffindor here. He hasss been sssuch a brave little boy." His tone became deadly. "But bravery won't sssave him the pain you know I can put him through."

Voldemort moved around so that he was at Harry's legs. With a scaly hand, he reached forward to grab at the teenage boy's rounded rear, groping at the tender cheek. Harry, deaf and blind, could do nothing but make little fearful noises. Another pair of hands that appeared from nowhere helped the snake-like man disrobed, leaving him completely nude, and the man totally unashamed of being exposed.

Voldemort leaned towards where Harry hung helpless. He lined his narrow waist with the youth's, hands gripping roughly at each buttock, his nails digging into the bruised skin. His member was hard and long, bigger than its limp state, the head barely brushing over Harry's unprepared opening.

"If you relent your army and give me your complete sssubordination," eyes of ruby glared toward his audience, focusing primarily on Dumbledore, "then I will sssave the boy here anymore of thisss agony. If not…"

A vicious thrust forward buried him to the base. Harry's spine bowed at the excruciating pain. A scream tore from his throat, no longer caring of the spike gag. Realizing movement would only worsen the pain, Harry tried to stay still but the fervent shaking that marched up along his entire body hindered his attempt.

"If not," continued Voldemort, his voice steady as though unfazed that he was currently taking someone against their will, "then there will be nothing left of your preciousss pet to sssend back to you. Choossse wisssely which you'd like to sssacrifice."

The image faded along with sounds of low grunts and keening cries that eventually disappeared into nothing, leaving only the orb to sit on the stone by itself, as if unawares of the gory message it just showed.

END FLASHBACK

What would have been Harry's sixth year did not happen. Hogwarts had been on lockdown, only those close to Harry were kept in the school for that whole year after his capture, offering protection in case Voldemort decided to attack them. However, Voldemort never did try to attack anymore of Harry's friends. In fact, after the message was sent, there was a lull of inactivity from the Dark Lord.

When Hogwarts finally started taking students again during the second year of Harry's absence, everyone was technically a year behind. The error in Dumbledore's judgment had very well might have cost Harry his life though everyone acted as though life were normal again. But Harry was still alive, and now here, at Hogwarts. Now, he was a seventh year at the age of eighteen.

BREAK

Severus eyed the orb in his hand, wondering to himself why the hell he had kept such a horrific thing. Was it out of some morbid yet desperate urge to cling onto anything that gave a clue as to the whereabouts of his love? Maybe. Maybe not.

Sighing, he dropped the orb back into its place in the drawer before shutting it closed. Covering his face with his hands, he sat there in silence. A small tremor began creeping up his body. He tried blocking out the visions that still haunted his dreams at night, another reason why he hardly slept anymore, and then he found himself unable to stave off a chuckle that escaped passed his lips.

Severus felt as though he were going mad, losing his mind under all the stress. Tears ran down his pallid cheeks, falling onto the front of his robes. He wanted to scream or destroy something, anything, in his anger at how unfair the world was, but all he did was laugh. He couldn't contain the derisive bark that felt as though it scalded his throat.

He felt so…helpless.

Across the room, unbeknownst to Severus who remained consumed by his grief, the door to his office was cracked. Silent as death, Harry peered in from behind the small space, watching on as Severus wept and laughed. Confused, he felt his heart wanting to go out to the man, but why? And what was it that brought on such a fit? Was it that orb?

Harry decided he would find out.


	7. World Torn Asunder

Author's Note: Was on hiatus for a little while, as everyone can see. But, I'm back again. This chapter is kinda corny, I feel, but whatevers. Read and review, as always.

WORLD TORN ASUNDER

Morning light crept slowly over the grounds of Hogwarts, causing the dew-covered grass to glisten cheerily, as though to make up for the dull gray haze blanketing the skies. A lazy breeze floated about the castle, sending the first chill of approaching winter, making the Whomping Willow shiver nearby. Buried protectively beneath the stone fortress, hidden away from the slightest caress of nature itself, the dungeons remained forever cold and desolate feeling. Still in the confines of his private laboratory, Severus Snape sat asleep in his potion-stained chair, his body laying somewhat slanted, arms hanging over the sides in apparent unconsciousness.

The stark bags under the Potions Master's eyes marked his exhaustion, along with the sallowness of his face, creating a mask marred by signs of stress. His mouth was slightly open, emitting soft snores into the room. The usually billowing black robes lay flat and wrinkled, offering a disheveled look. Thin trails of smoke slithered from the burnt out wicks of melted candles, floating towards the ceiling, leaving the drooped stumps of wax.

Adjacent from where the sleeping man sat was a door set ajar, showing a young man dozing on the floor through the crack, his face pressed absently against the chipped frame. Harry Potter sat slumped against the partially open doorway, having ironically fallen asleep while waiting for the other to do so first. He shifted a little as many do in their sleep, causing his head to slip from where it leaned against the door frame. The sudden movement startled him, forcing him awake, his eyes wide and seeming dazed.

A faint red mark was left on Harry's cheek. He rubbed sleepily at his bleary eyes before looking up at the aged grandfather clock set in the corner of his room. The single hand pointed to the faded words "Too Early" painted on the face. Getting up from his post where he had kept his failed nightly vigil, he smoothed down his robes before remembering why it was, exactly, he had been sitting their in the first place.

Silently pushing his way through the doorway, he cautiously approached where the sleeping Potions Master lay. He made his way to the side of the worn desk where he had seen the man extract the glass orb, and began carefully pulling each drawer out. It didn't take him long to reach the very last drawer where, disappointedly, there was still no sign of the elusive sphere. About to give up his search, he noticed the disordered folders, thinking this odd and unsuited to the meticulous man now breathing rhythmically not seven inches from him.

Reaching in, Harry shifted the folders as quickly as he dared before coming upon the barely hidden latch on the bottom. With a sharp feeling of success tingling in his chest, he unlocked the hidden compartment, revealing the mundane looking orb. Plucking the object, he closed the flap, rearranged the folders, and closed the drawer. Sneaking back into his room, he shut the door with a soft 'click' and settled himself on his four-poster bed.

"Now," mumbled Harry, "how do I work this thing?"

He held the orb at eye-level, examining the thickly carved piece of glass, letting what little light from his bedside lamp attempt to shine through it. Wracking his brain for any useful charms he could think of, he began trying a few incantations, muttering a list of them.

"Opus operis...plaga imago...reverto securus...redundo..."

At the last spell, the orb gave a little shudder, then a light from inside sparked to life and began to grow brighter. Unable to continue facing the orb, Harry turned his head away, his eyes tightly shut against the assault on his retinas. The entire room was engulfed in an intense, white-hot light.

"What the—" gritted Harry, trying to shield his eyes.

A deafening scream pierced the silence, filled the dungeons with a loud ringing din, the echoes bouncing off the stone walls.

The unanticipated shriek was accompanied by a surprised yelp from Harry. Dropping the orb, he pushed himself away from the blinding sphere when it gave another shudder, spinning where it now rested on the sheets. Harry could faintly register a heavy thud from the next room, some heavy footsteps heading in his direction, then suddenly his bedroom door was pushed with so much force that it crashed against the wall.

"Harry, no!"

Severus appeared at the entrance, one hand on the frame and the other pressed firmly against the abused door. For a moment, his eyes stared frightened at Harry, who was huddled against the headboard, then reverted to the source of burning brightness. He watched horror-struck as the flood of light concentrated to the recognizable shape of a screen, the gruesome scene beginning to unfold and play its message, yet again. He dived for the orb, to try and stop it before anymore could be shown, but then a voice broke through the flurry.

"_Sssay hello to your friendsss, Harry._"

The Potions Master froze, rooted to the spot, unable to move as if that sibilant voice had cast a body-binding curse upon him. Harry stopped shying away from the light and sat still, too. He looked up at the image being emitted by the glass ball, his green eyes growing wide at the sight, filled with terror and disbelief. His throat felt like it was closing in, denying the urge to scream.

He swallowed hard many times, trying to clear his throat in order to say anything that would come to mind, anything he could say that was coherent.

"Tom?"

Was the first thing he could think of, the only thing he could make out. The name came out in a hoarse whisper. Harry's voice was so shaky as he spoke, it took him a second to realize it was he who had spoken out loud, to recognize his own heartbreaking voice.

"_I sssuppossse I ssshould have kept thessse until later. No matter. We can get him to ssspeak another way._"

At the sight of his beloved, still skeletal and snake-like in this scene he noticed absently, Harry got up onto his knees, one hand grasped tightly over his heart, clutching his robes. He was gripping so hard that the whites of his knuckles shone clearly, his eyes completely focused on the images before him. His lower lip trembled slightly due to nerves, while his dark brows knitted with utter confusion. He could feel his brain rapidly trying to absorb and make sense of what he was watching, yet at the same time was trying to block out the proof of what he was seeing.

An agonized scream, hardly muffled by a silver spike, came suddenly from the image of his doppelganger. Harry flinched from his perch on the bed. All color was draining away from his face, leaving him paper-white. Meanwhile, unable to stomach the sight of his mutilated lover being tortured a second time, Severus switched to looking at the Harry kneeling on the bed.

The older man regarded the enraptured other with a tormented expression, one pulled between despair and yearning. Despair at the knowledge that his love must be faced so soon with such an ugly truth. Yearning at the need to protect his love from everything and anything. He reached a tentative hand toward Harry, but stopped when Voldemort's voice came again.

"_There now, that wasssn't ssso difficult, wasss it?_ (Severus shuddered when he heard the Dark Lord's cold laughter.) _Asss you can sssee, Dumbledore, I have your pet Gryffindor here. He hasss been sssuch a brave little boy. But bravery won't sssave him then pain you know I can put him through._"

Severus knew what was to come next, and sure enough, the sound of material slithering across flesh came as expected. By now Voldemort had disrobed and was positioning himself for the taking of his love. Disgust wrapped itself around Severus, choking him. Pure loathing filled his veins with such heated hate, he could have sworn that his insides had melted into a boiling mass of putrid, murderous contempt.

'Voldemort will suffer for this,' thought Severus.

It was neither a hopeful question nor an unrealistic musing, but a mere fact that he, Severus Snape, will see to its realization. It was a promise made for his Harry.

"_If you relent your army and give me your complete sssubordination, then I will sssave the boy here anymore of thisss agony. If not..._."

The sound of Harry's scream being echoed by the Harry kneeling right in front of him brought Severus out of his dark contemplations. The younger man had grabbed hold of the orb, causing the image projected above them to become warped, but the audio remained unhindered.

"_If not, then there will be nothing left of your pre—_"

"STOP IT!"

'CRACK'

Harry screamed as he struck the stone floor, orb in hand, with all his might. The thick glass cracked, promptly ceasing the message, all the light disappearing at once as if a switch had been hit.

"STOP IT!"

'CRASH'

Again he hit the floor with the cracked orb and the object shattered, sprinkling the ground with glittering glass, like snow on a pleasant winter day.

"STOP IT!"

'CRUNCH'

'CRUNCH'

'CRUNCH'

Obviously still not satisfied, Harry began pounding his fists onto the floor, uncaring of the glass that cut his hands with each hit.

Severus saw, feeling panicked, as Harry screamed and shrieked incoherently at everything and anything, his bloodied fists all the while mashing into the glass and stone. He threw himself forward, trying to grab hold of a distressed Harry while the younger man continuously worked at reducing his own hands into so much raw meat. The older wizard muttered a long stream of incantations that seemed like a song. Soon the wounds on Harry's hands were re-knitting and healing, but what little progress made was thwarted as the Gryffindor struggled to smash his bloody fists again and again and again.

Crazed and enraged, it would have been plain for all to see that Harry was suffering from some sort of breakdown. However, the phenomenon taking place was not just from the stress of basically seeing his whole knowledge of the world he thought he knew being torn apart and destroyed before his very eyes, but the scene that played out before him just a few moments ago had sparked a tumultuous wave of pain to crash into him. He stopped slamming and grinding his fists against the floor, only to clutch feebly at his head, feeling as though his skull would suddenly split and pour all of its essence out, to ooze freely and mix with the crystalline crumbs and unyielding stone. He clawed at his face, trying to distract himself from the pain assaulting the insides of his skull.

"No, Harry," cried Severus, trying to grasp the other about the wrists, but the blood made it difficult to gain a grip, "stop hurting yourself! It will be all right, just hold onto me!"

Whilst they struggled with one another, Harry never stopped screeching, although his voice was starting to become hoarse from the straining effort he used to sustain his outraged screams. The screams issued from the man in Severus's arms were animalistic. There did not seem to be a trace of a sound mind hidden anywhere in the violent young wizard. The amount of physical labor required to restrain Harry was proving to be taxing on the Potions Master as he began to pant as he sought to speak soothingly with the latter.

"Please, Harry, do not be afraid," he crooned, "I am here for you. No one will hurt you anymore. I promise. You do not have to return to him if you do not wish to—" He grunted as Harry's elbow hit him in the gut. Forcing himself to rally, he tried once more to hold Harry still. "I am here. I will protect you. I am here. Fret, no longer. I..."

Tears were sliding down Severus's pallid cheeks, for nothing seemed to be getting through to his love, who was now curled tightly in a ball and trembling in his arms, sobbing. The screams finally quieted.

"Your Severus is here for you. Please return to me, my love," pleaded Severus, "do not leave me in this solitude any longer. I cannot bear the loss. I need you. I...I love you, Harry."

At once the tremors he felt emanating from the younger wizard stopped. Severus dared to hope that what he was saying was finally seeping into Harry.

"Yes, that's right, I love you. I have always loved you and I understand now that I had been very selfish in keeping this from you, for the many times you had told me you loved me, but receiving no answer in return." The tears Severus was futilely trying to hold back flowed faster now, unable to be denied any longer. "Oh, but I do regret having taken you for granted just because I was a coward. But, no more, I will no longer with-hold myself from you. How I cherish you, how I love you. My very being, my soul, my love—all belong to you, Harry."

Harry did not move all the while Severus spoke. The sudden outpour of emotions left him silent.

"Harry?"

Harry muttered something under his breath.

"What was that, love? I couldn't catch that."

"You love...me?"

The question was filled with uncertainty, a sort of whimper. Severus wrapped his arms tighter around the curled wizard.

"Yes, very much so, yes."

"Liar."

Severus froze at the response, his heart feeling as through it were being wrenched in two.

"No, Harry, I am telling you the truth. I lo—"

"LIAR!"

Raw magical energy formed like a barrier around Harry and had violently shoved the Potions Master away, flinging him into the air, forcing him to hit the dresser that was set across the room, destroying it. Every piece of furniture and other stray knick knack in the room exploded, the stone walls separating Harry's room from Severus's quarters and the laboratory crumbled with a loud, quaking rumble. Suddenly, a high-pitched siren was being emitted from nowhere, a deep voice boomed around them.

"Attention all Heads of Houses," said Dumbledore, the voice magnified throughout the castle, "please bring all Hogwarts students to the Great Hall. I repeat, bring all Hogwarts students to the Great Hall."

A reverberating clatter could be heard above as all the students and professors clamored to do as their Headmaster ordered. Severus groaned from where he lay on the floor, trying to get up, his body felt stiff and bruised at having been thrown like a rag doll. Rubbing the side of his head with an ink-stained hand, he peered over where he thought Harry would be, his eyes squinting against the headache that was threatening to blind him. Standing in the middle of the destroyed room, Harry seemed to hover, his feet several inches off the floor.

Pieces of debris were floating, swirling about Harry's frame, like electrons attracted to the magnetic pull of their nucleus. Severus looked stunned at the sight, not only at the fact that the other was being held suspended but that, Harry's body appeared to be resonating a dark reddish glow, his eyes a vacant, luminescent white. His long black hair, Severus noted, billowed almost serenely, which gave the silken tendrils a look that was quite serpentine. Goosebumps began marching up and down along the Potions Master's spine for the air felt thick and icy, the source of this ill boding being none other than the young man hovering before him.

"You," muttered Harry, with such loathing and accusation that it distorted the sound of his voice, "you tell me lies."

"I would never," said Severus, imploringly, "what you saw was the truth. The Dark Lord sent it as a message to Albus and your friends."

"Friends? FRIENDS?!" Harry gave an intelligible growl. "How DARE you! Lies and filth, that is all you have to say to me! Tom divulged their true natures to me. I know they are NO friends of mine!"

The room gave a rumbling shudder, sending pieces of the dungeon ceiling raining down. The vast amounts of magical energy Harry was radiating was like nothing Severus had ever witnessed in his life. Accounts of wizarding children losing control during times of high emotional peaks were well known and rather a mundane fact. However, what Harry was emanating was by far a different matter. Such fury unleashed to such a magnitude could have only been tainted by a curse.

Whatever slumbering beast was awakened by seeing the lost memory was now surging through the young wizard. No doubt it was his natural magic, having been long crippled by the concoction he naively ingested daily, finally being given enough of a foothold to push back the effects of the poison. Harry's magic, again aware of itself, was now attempting to purge itself of Iskios Philtre. Like a fever meant to burn away a disease attacking the body, Harry's magic was now seeking to purge his body from magical contamination, pushing its metaphysical boundaries to the extreme in hopes of healing all the damage done.

Though the Gryffindor's magic was aimed to heal him from within, the effects it was having externally were proving to be disastrous. The sudden spike in energy was very unstable and moving far too fast for the slow and natural progression that Harry's physical mind had to make, to acknowledge a problem existed before actually fixing it. Without awareness, there would be no possible way the young wizard could control it. The result: chaos.

"I understand," quelled Severus, trying all he can to calm the young man, "and I agree with you full-heartedly, Harry. I do not feel as though they should have ever had the right in calling themselves your friend. They are all traitors, worthless cretins who took you for granted." He drew closer to Harry, his hands held out, beseeching. "But I never abandoned you, my love, never."

Harry sneered down at the begging man, whose words practically willed him to believe, but he was no fool.

"You never abandoned me," began Harry, and Severus perked slightly with hope, "only because you were never with me in the first place." All of Severus's wishful thoughts were dashed. "Tom told me all about you, Snape. How you loathed my father, and so loathed me in succession.

From what I heard, you made my life here at Hogwarts just as unbearable as all the rest have. You never loved me, and I'll be damned to even entertain the thought that you would have the slightest inclination of loving me now. Tom warned me about you, how you are not to be trusted, yet like a simpleton I dared disbelieve my Tom. I thought, perhaps, I could have a true friend while trapped here at Howarts, have a companion while I toiled through my mission.

But I see now how gravely wrong I was. I gave you the tiniest bit of trust I had ever allowed myself to bestow on another, besides my Tom, and you repay my goodwill with trickery—with lies! I should have just listened to Tom and stayed away from you, away from everybody. I cannot trust anyone but my love."

Severus felt as though everything Harry had to say was like a knife to his heart, stabbing brutally at all the raw emotions he bore for the young Gryffindor. Dropping to his hands and knees, the older Slytherin bowed his head in defeat, unable to meet the other's eyes. The silent tears which had streamed down his face were renewed and now poured out in sobs. His shoulders quaked as he cried.

"Please," begged Severus, "please believe that I love you. It's true we did not always get along, I do not deny this, but our love for each other had grown beautifully and shone pure and true once. It was not I who tricked you." The Potions Master took a great shuddering breath before continuing.

"It is your beloved Tom who has tricked you."

"ENOUGH!"

A burst of power ripped through the room, knocking Severus to the floor. Harry's breathing was intensely labored while he pressed the heels of his palms over his eyes, as if he could block out the world from his vision, but whatever he was shying away from could not be eluded so easily. Images assaulted his mind's eyes, twisting and changing, glaring and dimming. It was incessant, unending, unyielding. It was maddening.

From his lips erupted a great roar of seething rage. Harry sped off towards the Great Hall, his magic thrusting him forward, making it so he practically flew. In the wake of his departing form, a trail of destruction remained, carving a trench into the floor indicating where he had traveled. Not much mattered to Harry at that moment other than making those unbidden images in his head to stop.

Harry wanted an end to the pain. Harry wanted the source of it gone. Harry wanted peace of mind.

Bits of flashing memory seared the inside of his brain as he hurtled through the hallways. Ron and Hermoine faced him, laughing happily, their joy mocking his agony. Sirius and Remus were hugging one another, focused only on the one entwined in their arms, ignoring him without even a second glance. Dumbledore sat in front of him behind a desk, expression curious as those sky-blue eyes studied him, thinking him ever so insignificant.

Harry knew they were the ones who wanted him in pain. Harry knew they were the cause of it all. Harry knew what he must do if he wanted peace of mind. Harry knew only one thing for certain at that very moment.

He will kill them all.


End file.
